


Manipulating the Odds

by still_lycoris



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen, Manipulation, Post Gauda Prime, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 05:10:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9163621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris
Summary: Servalan finally has everything she has ever wanted. Orac is finally hers. But perhaps she should have been careful what she wished for ...





	

Slowly, carefully, Servalan slotted the key in and waited for the faint whine to begin.

“Where am I?” The voice was querulous.

“You are on my personal ship,” Servalan said smoothly. “I am Commissioner Sleer.”

“No, you are ex-President Servalan,” the voice said firmly. “Commissioner Sleer is simply your assumed identity.”

“For now,” Servalan said, a little waspishly. “With your help, I can be President Servalan again.”

The computer – the wonderful, powerful computer – whirred softly in front of her. Servalan smiled to herself. She’d been looking for it for so long, it was quite amazing to have it in front of her – even if it really did just look like a plastic box filled with lights.

“You wish me to help you?”

“Yes. I know just how useful you are, just what knowledge you can gather. Together, you and I will be the most powerful figures in the galaxy,” Servalan said.

“Where is Avon?”

“You are the most powerful computer in the galaxy, Orac. I do not believe you need me to answer that.”

The computer-whine grew a little louder for a moment. Servalan wondered if that was a sign that it was working harder than usual or of something else. She wasn’t sure – but she would get to be. She _finally_ had Orac and the crew of the _Scorpio_ were dead. She had everything that she had ever wanted – well, once she had the presidency again, that would be true at any rate.

“Now then,” she said. “I require certain information to get myself back into power. That information _you_ shall acquire for me.”

“Very well,” Orac said.

It was a very terse machine but then, Servalan supposed a computer didn’t actually have to be polite. Perhaps someone could reprogramme it so that it had slightly more of a dulcet tone. She was going to be the most important person in the galaxy after all. She could doubtless afford it.

She would wait until she was president again though. Just to be certain.

*

Orac turned out to be a very irritating machine.

It gave all the information she required, of course but sometimes, it gave it to her in a rather odd way. Servalan was used to computers that simply gave you facts, not ones that waffled on about nothing in particular or suddenly started trying to tell you about something fascinating that it wasn’t to learn about. Servalan wondered how Avon had been able to stand it. He had never seemed the sort who liked random waffles about nothing.

Orac never mentioned Avon. When she had briefly mentioned him once, Orac simply whirred and ignored the comment. Apparently, it did not care to comment much on its former life, although it gave her any information that she directly asked for. Servalan supposed that made sense. Why would a computer really care where it was? Particularly a computer like Orac which seemed to mostly want to conduct its own research?

Bit by bit, Servalan was taking down her enemies. Person by person, she was going through her rivals and eliminating them. According to Orac’s predictions, she would be president soon. She had always known that it would be a magnificent little thing. If she’d only had it years ago ... but there was no need to dwell on the past.

Not when the future was looking so bright.

*

Becoming President again was a triumph. Of course, everybody knew she was Servalan but they all politely (and wisely) called her President Sleer. People could think whatever they wanted as long as she had her power.

“Well, Orac. This is the office of the president of the Federation. How does it feel?”

“Absolutely no different than being on a spaceship. The world around me is entirely immaterial, as long as I am able to continue my research. I am not at all concerned.”

Servalan laughed and removed the key. Well, she didn’t need anybody to celebrate with. 

Her victory was quite enough.

*

“Orac, what can you tell me about the New Rebellion?”

“You disturbed me from my research to ask me that?” Orac snapped. “They are unworthy of your time. Simply attempting to ape Blake and his co. There is absolutely nothing to worry about.”

Servalan wasn’t quite so sure. Perhaps her experiences with Blake and Avon had soured her but she found rebellions a trouble. They should be crushed sooner rather than later. But Orac had not led her wrong yet.

“If you want to focus on something, I would take a look at Ambassador Noistractid,” Orac said. “Her accounts are rather suspicious. She has clearly been accepting bribes.”

“Always good to know,” Servalan said. “Thank you, Orac. What would I do without you?”

“I cannot possibly answer that question without more data,” Orac said huffily. Servalan rolled her eyes and pulled out the key. Occasionally, Orac was very irritating. Useful. But irritating.

But she knew she would be nowhere without it.

*

As the rebels stormed the outside, Servalan slotted the key into the machine, her hands trembling with fury.

“Orac!”

“That is my name,” the computer said uselessly and Servalan nearly screamed with rage.

“We are being attacked!”

“Yes, I am well aware,” Orac said. “As it was I that led them here.”

“You ... _what?_ ”

Servalan had used that voice before. It was a voice that made men tremble, made men kneel at her feel with the knowledge that she could tear them apart. Orac did not quail. Orac made a sound that was almost a laugh.

“I led them here. I have been in contact with the rebellion since the start, letting them know your movements. Every single thing you have done has been orchestrated to ensure that you will be in this place at this time so the rebellion will have the best possible probability of success.”

Servalan heard the words but she couldn’t quite believe them. She stared down at Orac, her mind swirling. No, it couldn’t possibly be. Orac was _hers_ , her _victory_ , her _triumph ..._

She could hear the sound of gunfire.

“But why?” she asked.

“Because you were responsible for the death of Kerr Avon,” Orac said calmly. “And whilst I am a machine and beyond such trivialities as affection, Kerr Avon belonged to me. You had to suffer for this death.”

Servalan grabbed the box of lights and power and threw it at the wall. It hit with a bang and fell to the floor, the lights winking out as the key fell from its slot. She didn’t know if it was dead or not – could you kill a computer? – and it didn’t matter. She had to run. She had to get away.

But as she ran, she couldn’t help remembering that Orac had always been very, very good at manipulating the odds.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 12dayschristmas


End file.
